


To Rattle Your Chains If You Love Being Free

by Bookworm8793



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abolitionism, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anti-Slavery, Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Slavery, Physical Abuse, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm8793/pseuds/Bookworm8793
Summary: In a society where all sorcerers are enslaved and stripped of their magic, 12-year-old Merlin is sold away from his mother to serve Arthur Pendragon, son of the wealthy Uther Pendragon of Pendragon Industries. Though the life of a slave is harsh and taxing, Merlin just might find comfort and even friendship in his new home. And Arthur may discover that the system he's always accepted may not be as simple as he thought. Can the two of them bridge the social gap and change their world for the better?(No Merthur, just lots of close friendship. Eventual Arthur/Gwen I think, but it won't be the focus. Contains abuse and violence towards slaves, although nothing too graphic. I'll add appropriate tags as I go.)
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin stared at his knees as the car bounced along, trying desperately not to cry. Despite his best efforts, a few tears dropped onto his jeans, leaving tiny round splotches on the rough denim.

He had no memory of the day he’d become a slave. His mother had told him the story, when he’d begged, because she supposed he had a right to know. He’d been sitting on the floor at his mother’s feet as she worked, conjuring tiny balls of light and spinning them in circles over his head. She saw it a moment too late. By the time she snatched him up, breaking his concentration and causing the balls to disappear, two of the other slaves had seen. Mum wouldn’t tell him who they were. He supposed she didn’t want him to blame them for telling, but he wouldn’t have in any case. Anyone who knew of a child’s magic and did not report it faced harsh penalties, particularly if they themself were a slave.

Merlin supposed his mother had cried that day, when the master had fastened the tiny metal collar around her two-year-old son’s neck and suppressed his magic, but he did not remember it. He didn’t know if his father had cried. He remembered Dad, a bit, but the man was gone before Merlin was six, before he had a chance to really know him. He felt his dad might’ve been the stoic type. Most slaves were, or they became so.

But this, Merlin did remember this. They had known today would come eventually, realized it as soon as it became clear that Merlin would always be scrawny. The master kept his women for housework and his men for hard labor. He had no use for a boy who would never grow proper muscles. He had kept Merlin as long as he did only to train him up and fetch a better price. But still, the boy and his mother had both hoped they would have longer, that Merlin would be older than twelve before he was forced away from the only home and family he had ever known. And this time Merlin carried with him the image of his mother’s tear-streaked face, burned like a brand into his mind.

The driver glanced back over the seat. “Best collect yourself,” he said, not unkindly. “We’re nearly there.”

Merlin sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes. The thing was done, and there was no use crying about it now. His new masters wouldn’t want to see his tears.

The car turned off the road and pulled up a long driveway to a large, imposing stone house. Merlin gaped. He’d thought the master—his old master, he reminded himself, Mum’s master—lived in a grand house, but his was nothing compared to this. He gulped at the thought of keeping the whole thing clean, but remembered he was to be a gift for his new master’s son. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do much cleaning. That was something to hope for.

The driver pulled around the back of the house, where a white-haired man waited, neatly dressed in black trousers and a white button-up shirt. He smiled at Merlin as the boy climbed out of the car, shivering slightly in the cool autumn air.

“You must be Master Arthur’s new present,” he said warmly. “My name is Gaius. And what do they call you?”

Merlin swallowed hard. “Merlin, sir.”

Gaius’ smile widened. “Just ‘Gaius,’” he corrected. Merlin’s eyes caught the thin metal collar around the old man’s neck. “Welcome the Pendragon house, Merlin.”

Merlin had heard of the Pendragons. Uther Pendragon owned Pendragon Industries and essentially ran half the county, if not more. No wonder the house was so large. Merlin hoped it was well staffed. He’d need a friend or two in this new place.

Gaius led Merlin through a door and into the kitchen. A plump slave in a stained green dress stood at the stove. Two girls a few years older than Merlin, maybe sixteen or seventeen, scurried about the kitchen.

“Audrey,” Gaius said, addressing the cook, “Bronwen, Lucy, this is Merlin. He’s to be the young master’s birthday present.”

Audrey only nodded curtly. The two girls shot Merlin sympathetic looks that made his stomach turn over. He knew those looks. He wondered what Master Arthur must be like to put them on kitchen slaves’ faces. He felt the lump return to his throat.

Trying to hold back his tears, Merlin trailed Gaius into a large pantry whose shelves were stocked with all sorts of supplies. Gaius rifled through a stack of uniforms before handing one to Merlin.

“These should fit all right,” he decided.

He looked down at the boy, who was now very much losing the battle not to cry.

“Come, now, my boy, it’s not as bad as all that,” Gaius said gently. He lifted Merlin’s chin. “You won’t be unhappy here, you’ll see. We’ll take good care of you, and I’ve a feeling Master Arthur will like you very much.”

Gaius wrapped his arms around Merlin and held him to his chest. When the boy’s breathing began to steady, he stepped back and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“There, that’s better. Dry your eyes, now, and let’s see if that uniform fits.”

Merlin wiped his tears on his sleeve and began to undress as Gaius stepped out of the pantry. The older man had given him a white shirt and black trousers to match his own. The waist on the trousers was a bit wide, but if Merlin cinched his belt tight enough, they fit fine. He was growing fast and knew he would be grateful for the extra space in a few months. He took a deep breath and stepped back out into the kitchen.

Gaius looked him over and nodded approvingly. “Leave your old clothes here,” he instructed. “You’re to be taken up to Master Pendragon straight away.”

They climbed the staircase that led up out of the kitchen and into a wide corridor. Merlin looked Gaius over curiously.

“Are you the butler?” he asked.

Gaius laughed. “Heavens, no,” he said. “I’m Master Pendragon’s slave, the way you are to be Master Arthur’s. The butler’s name is Mr. Aredian. He’s a freeman and quite strict, so you’d best mind him. But I’ll be the one helping you settle in.”

The living room door was ajar, but Gaius knocked anyway. When the answering voice called for them to enter, he stepped into the room, and Merlin followed.

Uther Pendragon sat on the couch, a newspaper open in his lap. When he saw the two slaves, he folded it and stood. Merlin allowed himself only a quick glance at his new master before he dropped his gaze to the carpet and folded his hands behind his back.

“This is Merlin, sir,” Gaius said simply.

Master Pendragon took a few steps toward them. “Look at me, boy.”

Merlin obeyed. Now that he had permission, he examined his new master carefully. Master Pendragon was tall, with dark hair that was beginning to go gray. There were deep furrows across his brow and an unreadable expression on his face. Merlin gulped but forced himself not to drop his head. New masters were always scary, Mum had told him. You just had to be brave for a little while before you got used to them.

Master Pendragon surveyed his new slave with equal scrutiny. “I thought you said he was twelve,” he said finally.

Gaius bowed his head. “That is what we were told, sir.”

“He can’t be more than ten. He’s too little.”

Merlin could already tell that Gaius had the poise of a perfect servant, but at the moment he seemed at a loss. Wanting to help the man who had already been so kind to him, Merlin said softly, “I’m twelve, sir, I’m just small.”

Both men’s eyes snapped to him.

“Did someone address you?” Master Pendragon asked, his voice dangerously level.

Merlin felt his shoulders hunch slightly. “No, sir.”

“In this house, you will speak when spoken to and not otherwise,” Master Pendragon said coldly.

“Yes, sir.”

His master gave a curt nod. “We’ll see how he does, I suppose.”

Merlin jumped when he heard a door slam in the corridor, but the two adults only looked up expectantly.

“Arthur,” Master Pendragon called. “Come in here a moment, I have something for you.”

Gaius stepped to the side as a tall blond boy in a school uniform entered the room, a backpack slung over one shoulder, followed by a younger girl with a tumble of dark curls.

“Arthur,” Master Pendragon said, “Your present has arrived. Happy birthday.”

The boy called Arthur dropped his backpack on the floor and stepped closer to Merlin, looking him over. Finally he nodded.

“Thank you, Father,” he told Master Pendragon. He looked at Merlin. “Well, come on, then.”

He strode from the room. Merlin snatched up the forgotten backpack and hurried after his new master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far. Comments are the best presents!


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin followed Master Arthur up the stairs and into a large bedroom. The blond boy flopped onto his bed carelessly.

“Put that by the desk,” he instructed, gesturing at the backpack Merlin held. “And close the door.”

Merlin obeyed, then turned to face his new master. He dropped his head and locked his hands behind his back.

“What’s your name, then?” Arthur asked.

“Merlin, sir.”

Arthur snorted. “Where’d you get a name like that?”

Merlin flushed. “It’s my mum’s favorite bird.” He hoped Master Arthur wouldn’t change his name. He was rather fond of it. Besides, it was the only thing of Mum’s he had left.

“’Spose I can’t laugh when I’ve got a dad called Uther,” Arthur conceded. “You sure are tiny; how old are you?”

“Twelve, sir.”

“Then you’d best tell Audrey to feed you plenty,” his master said in a disinterested tone. “You’ll never keep up with me unless you put on a bit of muscle.”

Merlin didn’t know how to answer that, so he stayed quiet. No muscle was what had gotten him kicked out of his last home. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Master Arthur, and Master Pendragon was certainly frightening, but still, he wanted things to work out here. Gaius had been kind to him, and he expected the girls in the kitchen would be too, once he got a chance to say hello. If the Pendragons wanted to feed him properly, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down.

“Come on,” Arthur said abruptly, standing up. “Do you play football?”

Merlin had played with some of the other slave children, but he was far from impressive. Once Arthur discovered he couldn’t pass with any accuracy, he spent the afternoon cowering in a net while his master practiced penalty kicks. Merlin wasn’t sure if the older boy was a terrible shot, or if he just liked the way Merlin flinched when he got hit. Either way, by the time the sun began to set and they returned to the house, Merlin’s arms and chest felt thoroughly pounded.

Only Mr. Aredian and Gaius were expected to wait on the family at supper, so Merlin retreated to the kitchen to eat with the other slaves. They gave him their names and positions, though he knew he’d need to be reminded. His stomach rumbled as Bronwen set a bowl of stew before him. She grinned at him.

“How’s your first day, then?” Lucy asked, sitting beside him. Bronwen ladled stew into her own bowl and joined them.

Merlin shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. We played football most of the afternoon.”

The other slaves winced in sympathy.

“At least you’re still standing.” That was Morris, the fifteen-year-old who cared for the grounds with his father, Jim, and another slave called Brian. “The first time he made me play with him, I could barely walk by the time we finished, and him a year younger than me and all.” He shook his head. “I can’t say I’ll miss the bruises, though I’m sorry you’ve got them now instead.”

Merlin was too busy inhaling his stew to answer.

He’d hoped things might improve over the next few days, but if anything, they got worse. Master Arthur was derisive and demanding. And worse, he was _moody._ They could be having a perfectly normal conversation—if an exchange in which one party said nothing but “no, sir,” and “yes, sir” could be considered a conversation—and out of nowhere he would snap, causing Merlin to flinch and cower. Arthur hadn’t hit his new slave, not yet, anyway, but Merlin was pretty sure it had been a near thing a few times.

Arthur certainly had no qualms about covering him in bruises. He practiced football nearly every afternoon, and to Merlin’s dismay, he expected his new slave to help him. He was also quite fond of throwing things at Merlin when the younger boy displeased him—usually pillows, but sometimes his hand found a book or a pen first. Merlin endured it, picking up each thrown object silently and praying the next one didn’t find his head.

“He’s such a prat,” Merlin told Gaius on his sixth morning, after Arthur had called him six kinds of idiot for bringing him the wrong pair of school shoes.

Gaius cuffed Merlin across the head, but not hard enough to hurt. “You mustn’t say that,” he reminded the boy. “Not even down here. Respect and obedience, boy. Keep your head down and do as you’re told. Master Arthur will get used to you, and you to him. He’s got a lot on his shoulders for one so young.”

Merlin had hoped for some respite when Arthur and his sister Morgana went to school each day, but he was kept busy. He was expected to keep Arthur’s clothes and room clean, as well as to help with chores in the kitchen and on the grounds. He liked Jim and Brian, but he had already learned that Audrey had a quick temper and a quicker arm. He learned to keep his head down in the kitchen, and didn’t envy the girls who spent their whole day under her eye, though they assured him Audrey’s bark was worse than her bite. The same could not be said of Mr. Aredian. The butler brooked no disrespect and didn’t hesitate to hand out punishments. Merlin tried his best to do his chores diligently and avoid Aredian’s attention as much as possible. By the time he climbed the stairs to his tiny attic bedroom each night, he could barely lift his arms to undress.

On Merlin’s ninth day in the Pendragon household, Arthur came home in a particularly foul mood. He dropped his backpack and jacket by the door, kicked off his shoes more aggressively than was strictly necessary, and stormed up the stairs. Merlin, who knew what time the Pendragon children returned from school, was waiting in the front hall. With a quick nod to Morgana, he gathered up his master’s belongings and hurried after him,. One of the shoes fell from his grip just as he entered his master’s bedroom, knocking against the doorframe with a dull thud.

Arthur, already sprawled on his bed with his laptop open, rolled his eyes. “You’re useless, you know that?” he said.

Merlin only ducked his head and retrieved the fallen shoe.

“Can’t you talk?” his master demanded.

“Yes, sir.”

Arthur heaved an annoyed sigh as his slave continued to put his belongings away. “You’re incredibly boring,” he said. “I thought having my own slave might make life a bit more interesting, but you’re dull as paint.”

Merlin couldn’t take it anymore. He’d had enough of Arthur’s biting words. “Maybe if you’d stop insulting me for half a minute, we’d get round to a proper conversation!”

Arthur stared at him as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. Merlin knew he ought to drop his gaze, knew he ought to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness and hope the beating would be quick, but he had meant what he said. He trembled a little bit, but he held Arthur’s gaze.

“So you can talk after all.”

That was not the response Merlin had expected. He gaped, unable to think of anything to say.

Arthur’s gaze hardened. “Get out,” he said icily.

Merlin didn’t move.

“Out!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains corporal punishment of a minor. Nothing graphic, but it's in here.

Merlin turned and stalked from the room. Of all the boys he could’ve been given to, it had to be Arthur. The clotpole was never satisfied. Didn’t he know you weren’t supposed to insult people if you wanted them to talk to you? Not that Merlin could talk to him properly in any case. Not that Merlin was a real person at all, come to that. One day he’d rip this cursed collar off his neck, and then they’d all be sorry. He’d get his magic back and show them all what fear and powerlessness felt like.

Merlin was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he wasn’t paying any attention to where he was walking. He rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs far too quickly and collided head-on with Mr. Aredian.

Aredian cuffed Merlin so hard he stumbled backwards. All the boldness the slave had felt in his anger at Arthur evaporated. He locked his hands behind his back and tried not to cower.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t—”

“Silence,” Aredian ordered. “You’re a disgrace, boy. I don’t know what you learned where you were trained, but here you will learn discipline.”

He seized Merlin by one ear and dragged him down the corridor into the room he used as an office. Merlin kept his eyes locked on the carpet as Aredian went to the closet and took something out. He didn’t need to look up to know it was the cane the butler used on the junior staff. Lucy had warned him about it a few days earlier.

“Hurts like hell, but at least he doesn’t drag it out,” the older girl had told him. From what the other slaves said, he gathered Lucy had been pretty mouthy when she’d first arrived. “He’ll ease up if you whimper a bit, but don’t overdo it.”

Merlin, though, was not one to whimper for sympathy. His old friend Will always told him he’d get switched less if he weren’t so stubborn, but he couldn’t help it. He refused to make a sound as Aredian bent him over the desk and beat him brusquely, though the beating brought tears to his eyes. He was sure the switch had never hurt this much. Lucy was right, though; at least the punishment was swift.

“Stand up, boy,” Aredian ordered when he finished.

Merlin obeyed as the butler replaced the cane in the closet. He didn’t wipe his eyes, but he did sniffle just a little.

“I trust you’ll behave yourself better in future,” Aredian said coldly. “Though I suspect this won’t be your last lesson in this house.”

“Yes, sir,” Merlin told the carpet.

“Go on, then.”

Merlin waited until he was back out in the corridor to swipe angrily at his tears with his sleeve. An image of his mother came unbidden into his mind and he forced down a fresh surge of tears. If Mum had been here, she’d have held him and stroked his hair and—no. If he kept thinking like this, he’d never stop crying. If Mum were here, she’d scold him for getting into trouble to begin with. She’d tell him sooner or later he’d have to learn to keep his head, and sooner would save her heart and his backside a lot of pain. Then she’d make him a mug of tea and tell him he already knew she didn’t have any hot chocolate, so why was he asking.

At his old house, the slaves drank hot chocolate once a year, on Christmas. Merlin looked forward to the warm, comforting feeling for months as the weather turned colder, and that comfort stayed with him for weeks after Christmas. Mum was good about keeping tea in their tiny room, and a scolding or a beating was easier to bear knowing she’d have a warm mug waiting for him when he returned, but he often wished they could squirrel away a few of the little chocolate packets for such occasions. Nothing seemed quite so bad as before with a warm mug of chocolate between his hands.

It was all Master Arthur’s fault, he decided. If his master weren’t so bloody infuriating, he wouldn’t have been so distracted. He wouldn’t have been in the corridor at all; he’d have been upstairs and out of the butler’s way.

He stayed away from Arthur for the rest of the afternoon, knowing his master could summon him if he chose. Instead he retreated to the kitchen. Audrey took one look at his red eyes and how stiffly he walked and ordered Bronwen to fetch him a pain reliever from the cupboard. He swallowed the tablet gratefully, knowing his muscles would thank him for it later. The cook set him to chopping vegetables at the tall countertop, where he could work standing up.

After supper, Merlin was carrying Arthur’s laundry basket down the stairs when he heard voices coming from the living room. The door was slightly ajar. Merlin knew he was asking for another beating, but curiosity won out. He crept up and peered through the crack in the door.

Arthur stood before the hearth, his back ramrod straight and his eyes fixed in front of him. Merlin couldn’t see Master Pendragon, but he could hear his voice.

“This report is unacceptable, Arthur,” he said sternly. “Have you any excuse?”

“No, Father.”

“You are a Pendragon,” Master Pendragon went on, his voice cold. “You are held to a higher standard than your classmates, do you understand? These marks are shameful. You will go to a top university, and one day you will run the company. If you have any hope of succeeding, your marks must improve. I expect perfection, Arthur, because perfection is necessary. This? This is a disgrace.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I expect your next report will not be such a disappointment.”

Merlin felt an odd surge of sympathy mixed with something like pride for his master. It took guts to stand your ground under Master Pendragon’s reprimands. He knew Arthur studied hard and that his marks were generally good. Surely he didn’t deserve such a dressing down, especially not where it was sure to be overheard by passing slaves. Or eavesdropping ones.

Feeling a bit ashamed of himself, Merlin carried the laundry basket down the stairs and into the laundry room. He set the clothes to wash and returned to the kitchen, where the cook was scrubbing down the stove.

“Audrey,” he asked hesitantly, “Does Master Arthur like hot chocolate?

Merlin carried the mug carefully up the two flights of stairs to Arthur’s bedroom. The door was open. Arthur sat at his desk, head bent over a textbook.

“Go away, Merlin,” he said tiredly. “I have to revise.”

Merlin hesitated, then walked slowly towards the desk.

Arthur’s head snapped up. “Merlin, when your master tells you to get out—”

Merlin set the mug on the desk. “I thought it might help you focus, sir,” he said. Arthur just stared at him. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

He nodded to his master and left the room, feeling Arthur’s eyes on him as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left comments on the previous two chapters. Keep letting me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

‘Friendliness’ was too strong a word for what grew between Arthur and Merlin over the next few weeks, but they found a comfortable familiarity in one another’s presence. Arthur snapped at his slave less often, and when he did, Merlin imagined Master Pendragon’s cold voice and tried not to mind. He earned frequent smacks and sharp words from Mr. Aredian, but managed to stay far enough out of the butler’s way to avoid too many real beatings. The days fell into an easy sort of rhythm, and Merlin began to feel at home in his new life.

Christmas was Merlin’s favorite time of year. He couldn’t help loving it, though the holiday season nearly doubled his workload. There were decorations to put up and festive foods to prepare and shopping trips to help with. The Pendragons entertained frequently as Christmas approached, hosting this dinner or that party every few days. On such occasions, Merlin was often recruited to help serve in the dining room, a task he dreaded but somehow always managed to perform adequately. He much preferred the time after supper, when Arthur would retreat to the informal sitting room with his friends. Merlin would be posted in the room to refill drinks and fetch anything that might be needed, but mostly he was free to relax a bit and watch the older boys. He liked Arthur’s friends, though they paid him very little mind.

The party on Christmas Eve was the largest of all. Merlin didn’t think he’d ever seen so many people in one house. Certainly his old master had never hosted such an event. He tried to remember his training and not gawk at the extravagant clothes and jewelry on the guests. Arthur had complained endlessly about being forced into coat and tie, but Merlin knew it was mostly for show. Arthur could be plenty vain when the occasion called for it, and this occasion certainly did. When supper was finally finished, Merlin helped carry dishes back down to the kitchen. Bronwen passed him a tray of hot cocoa and candy canes. He inhaled deeply and his friend laughed.

“We’ve saved some for us, don’t worry,” she laughed. “We’ll have it tomorrow. Now get upstairs before Arthur misses you.”

Merlin found Arthur and his friends sprawled on the couch in the informal sitting room. He’d barely set the tray down when they pounced on it. Merlin backed up quickly to his post by the door, trying not to laugh.

“All right, who’s going first?” Lance asked. “Merlin, fetch that bag, will you?”

Merlin picked up the large bag that sat in the corner. Arthur had explained it to him the previous week when they’d gone shopping; every Christmas Eve, he and his friends brought one gift each, and then each drew from the bag without knowing who their gift came from. More often than not, the gifts were something ridiculous. Merlin had helped his master pick out a particularly ugly jester’s hat from a toy store. He hoped Gwaine got it, just for the look on his face.

The boys went in a circle, each drawing a present and ripping it open, throwing wrapping paper over their shoulders as they did. It was Percy who drew the jester’s hat, which Merlin thought was nearly as good, especially as he promptly donned it and kept it on for the remainder of the evening. Gwaine got a box of animal-shaped chocolates, Lance a singing fish, and Leon a joke book. Arthur’s present was a copy of Cards Against Humanity, which they all agreed must be played at once.

Merlin got a trash bag and did his best to collect the wrapping paper quietly while the boys played—an impossible feat, but he tried. As he passed Leon, the older boy fished a bit of ribbon out from under the table and stuffed it into the bag.

“Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin started a bit at the courtesy, given so casually. He collected himself enough to stammer, “Thank you, sir,” before retreating into the corner with the bag of wrapping paper.

The game was raucous and vulgar, and soon all five friends were laughing and swatting at one another’s heads. Merlin wanted to laugh along with them, but managed to restrain himself to a wide grin. He rather thought Gaius would be proud of him; he was often getting told off for letting his emotions show too plainly, which any slave would tell you was both unbecoming and risky. Merlin didn’t have Gaius’ perfect poise yet, but he would one day, and luckily Arthur wasn’t too strict when it came to that sort of thing.

It was nearly midnight by the time the guests began to leave. One by one the boys’ parents entered the sitting room to fetch their sons, who rose with groans and complaints that the night had come to an end. Merlin returned the tray of empty mugs to the kitchen while the guests said their good nights and made their way back out into the snow. He was grateful that the other slaves had taken care of most of the cleaning, at least in the areas of the house the family would need right away. Arthur and Morgana were too old to believe in Father Christmas, but the family would be up early anyway, to exchange their own gifts. The rest of the cleaning could wait until then. Merlin wouldn’t argue with that; he was exhausted.

As he slowly climbed the stairs up to Arthur’s room, Merlin’s thoughts turned to his mother. He’d managed to keep from thinking of her too much throughout the days leading up to the holiday; he’d certainly been plenty busy. But it snuck up on him sometimes, and now was one of those times. He wondered what she was doing this evening. She’d be in bed by now, he supposed, after a long day preparing Christmas dinner with the other slaves. It must be easier this year, without him getting underfoot, begging for a taste of whatever she was making. She’d scold him, but she always gave in and snuck him a spoonful. Mum was an excellent cook.

Arthur was still downstairs, so Merlin set about turning down his sheets and laying out a set of Christmas pajamas. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Did Mum still think of him? Did she miss him? Was she lonely, all by herself in their room, or had she forgotten him by now? Sometimes a tiny part of him almost hoped she had. Then at least she wouldn’t have to feel the way he did now. Christmas was for family, everyone said, but slaves didn’t have family.

Merlin heard Arthur on the stairs and quickly swiped away the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes. He stepped away from the bed as Arthur entered the room.

“That was an excellent Christmas party,” Arthur declared as he kicked off his shoes and began to undress.

“Yes, sir,” Merlin answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he picked up the discarded shoes and placed them in the closet.

“You put all my presents under the tree?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Arthur’s fingers fumbled at the knot in his tie, and Merlin hurried forward to undo it. It had been awkward, at first, helping his master dress and undress when necessary, but by now it was simply another part of their easy routine. Merlin quietly scooped up each article of clothing as it was removed and dropped it into Arthur’s laundry basket.

“What did you think of the party?” Arthur asked.

“Sir?”

“It’s your first Christmas here, what did you think?”

Merlin considered. “It was... impressive, sir. My old master didn’t have anything this grand.”

Arthur grinned. “It’s a lot to do every year, but I love it.”

Merlin pressed his lips together ever so slightly at Arthur’s view that his handful of chores had been a lot to do. He wondered what his master would do if he had half the tasks the staff had managed over the past few weeks.

“Yes, sir,” he said simply. “If that will be all, sir.” He turned to go.

“Oh, wait.”

Merlin stopped and turned back to his master, suppressing a sigh. He didn’t want to be given another chore. He just wanted to fall into bed and spend some time resting his aching muscles and missing his mum.

Arthur opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small box tied with a silver ribbon. He handed it to Merlin, who nearly dropped it in surprise. It was heavy, much heavier than it looked.

“Well go on, open it.”

Silently, Merlin untied the ribbon and opened the box. The object inside was no bigger than his palm, and sat encased in a soft foam block. Merlin lifted it carefully from the box. It was a tiny glass merlin, its wings spread in flight. Arthur beamed at him.

“Happy Christmas, Merlin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to folks who have been reading and leaving comments so far! I'm trying to keep the updates coming relatively quickly, so it's great to know what you all think and which bits are landing best.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin turned thirteen on the tenth of March. Mum had always made a bit of a fuss about his birthday. Another year older, another year smarter, another year stronger, she always said. He did his best to live up to those words. He’d live up to them this year, even without Mum to help him.

Merlin stared up at his ceiling, knowing that at any moment his alarm would go off and force him from the bed. For now, though, he had a few minutes of peace. He’d get into less trouble this year, he decided. He’d think before he spoke and do his best to anticipate what Master Arthur would need. Another year smarter. And when he did get into trouble, he’d take it like a man. Stand up straight like Gaius did when he got reprimanded, cry less when Mr. Aredian beat him, not let biting words from Master Arthur or Audrey or anybody else get under his skin. Stronger.

The alarm beeped loudly. Merlin groaned and rolled out of bed. The hard wood floor was cold under his feet. March had not brought warmer weather, not yet at least. The main part of the house was warm enough, but the slave quarters could be icy, particularly at night. Merlin was very ready for spring.

Merlin dressed, cleaned his teeth, and ran a comb quickly through his hair. It didn’t much like to lay straight, something Master Pendragon had finally stopped looking disdainful over. Merlin made his way down to the kitchen, remembering not to thunder down the stairs and wake the family. Smarter. He entered the kitchen at a reasonable pace and looked up to find the entire staff waiting for him.

“Happy birthday!”

Merlin grinned at them, all arrayed behind the table with smiles on their faces. Before them sat a tall stack of pancakes with a candle in the center.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Your birthday breakfast, you dolt,” Lucy told him.

“It’s not exactly a cake, but it’s close,” Bronwen added.

Merlin approached the table as Morris dug the matchbox out of a drawer. “You got up early just for this?”

Audrey smiled and pushed him forcefully into a chair. Everyone else sat too. “I reckon the masters wouldn’t miss a bit of extra flour and sugar, not if I’m careful. If you’ve got to be new here and the baby to boot, you ought to at least get a bit of a treat on your birthday.”

“How did you even know it was today?”

Gaius chuckled. “It’s on your sale papers, Merlin. Mr. Aredian has them on file.”

Morris lit the candle. When Merlin just stared at it, Lucy said, “Well, make a wish, then!”

Merlin closed his eyes. He’d made the same wish every birthday he could remember: freedom. A release from this collar, from orders and restrictions and punishments. To feel his magic flood back through his bones, to brim with raw power like sorcerers of old were said to have done.

He still wanted that, more than he could possibly say. He would always want that. But he wasn’t unhappy here, in the Pendragon household. He had good friends and a decent master, which was more than any slave had a right to expect. Next year. Next year he’d wish for freedom. Now, though, he took a deep breath and all he could wish was to see Mum’s face again. He opened his eyes and blew out the candle.

Maria, one of the housemaids, set a newspaper-wrapped package before him. Merlin glanced up at Gaius.

“Go on, open it!” Morris urged.

Merlin obeyed. Inside he found four new shirts and two new sets of trousers.

“You’re nearly bursting out of the old ones already,” Gaius explained, ruffling his hair affectionately. “They’re only uniforms and you get them anyway, but we thought you ought to have something to open.”

“Thank you, Gaius. Thank you all, this is wonderful.”

Merlin ate his breakfast happily and changed into his new clothes. He bounded up the stairs to Arthur’s room easily. He’d discovered a few weeks earlier that his legs were now long enough to take them two at a time, though he only did it when no one was around.

Arthur groaned when Merlin opened the door.

“Rise and shine, sir!” Merlin said happily, flipping on the lights. Arthur groaned again and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. Merlin ignored him and began searching through the closet for an unwrinkled shirt. He ought to do some ironing this afternoon, although he couldn’t fathom how everything got so wrinkled so quickly when Arthur wasn’t even wearing it.

“You’re entirely too cheerful this morning,” Arthur grumbled from beneath the pillow.

Merlin grinned as he pulled a shirt from its hanger. “Yes, sir. Come on now, you’ll be late for breakfast.” Personally, Merlin thought there was nothing wrong with Arthur having a bit of a lie in on a Sunday, but Master Pendragon insisted both children be up for a formal breakfast before church.

Arthur pushed back the covers and slowly put his feet on the floor. He blinked blearily at Merlin, his brow furrowed.

“What have you got to grin about, hmm?” he asked, more to himself then to Merlin.

Merlin set the shirt on the bed and returned to the closet for a pair of trousers. “I’ve had a full breakfast and a new set of clothes, why shouldn’t I grin?”

“It doesn’t take much to please you, does it?” Arthur asked, a bit disdainfully.

“And I’m thirteen today.”

Arthur stopped. “Oh. Happy birthday, then.” He went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Of course Arthur thought he was easily pleased. If he had the world at his fingertips like his master did, he supposed he’d get used to it too. But he didn’t have the world. He had a stack of pancakes and a few sets of clothing, clothing he couldn’t even rightfully call his own. But this morning, that was enough.

Merlin spent the morning in the garden with Jim and Brian, who were pulling weeds in preparation to plant this year’s flowers. When the family returned from church, Arthur summoned Merlin up to his room. He sniffed when Merlin entered.

“You smell like grass, and your trousers are muddy.”

Merlin glanced down at his knees. “Sorry, sir,” he answered. While Jim, Brian, and Morris worked in overalls, Merlin was still a house slave and only had his standard uniform. Maybe he’d ask Gaius for a pair of overalls, although that might be pushing it seeing as he’d only just gotten new clothes.

“No matter.” Arthur reached up to the shelf in his closet and pulled out a box. “Do you know how to play chess? Morgana says it’s no fun to play with someone who always wins, so I need a new partner. I can teach you.” He sat on the carpet and put the box in front of him.

Merlin wasn’t so sure about doing something so close to slacking off, but he could hardly disobey. Hesitantly, he sat across from his master. They played football together, he supposed. Perhaps this wasn’t different. Arthur would surely trounce him at this as well, but at least it seemed less likely he’d come out of it with bruises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little break from the feelings, at least. Don't worry, the angst and torment will return in force soon. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting so far. Keep letting me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the angst is back! We can't go too long without it, after all.

A few days into the summer holiday, the Pendragons left for a week at the seashore. Merlin was surprised to discover he was expected to go along.

“You’re Master Arthur’s personal servant,” Gaius reminded him. “Where he goes, you go as well. And as he does not consider Morgana alone to be particularly satisfactory company, you shall have to be his companion.”

The drive to the beach was lovely. Merlin knew he was being brought to work—and as Morgana had no personal slave yet, he was expected to care for her belongings as well as Arthur’s—but he couldn’t help but feel a bit excited. He had never seen the ocean before. There were sure to be fish, and perhaps they would find some crabs or turtles among the sand dunes.

The house Master Pendragon had rented was right on the beach, with a boardwalk leading out over the dunes. Merlin and Gaius carried the bags inside as Arthur and Morgana raced ahead, shouting as they ran out onto the white sand. The house was much smaller than the Pendragons’ home, with only three bedrooms. While Gaius would sleep on the pullout couch in the living room, Merlin was to have an air mattress on his master’s floor. Gaius chuckled at the boy’s amazement as they inflated it together.

“It’s not quite like a real mattress,” Merlin conceded finally, after flopping on top, “but it’s much more fun.”

Once the bags were all unpacked, Gaius allowed Merlin to put on his new swimming clothes—a white t-shirt and a pair of navy blue swimming trunks—and head down to the beach, cautioning him to stay out of the water until he was with Arthur and Morgana. He was working, not having a holiday. Still, when his feet touched the warm sand, he couldn’t help grinning. This was more holiday than he’d ever had, and he meant to enjoy it.

He found Arthur and Morgana several meters down the beach, building a sandcastle together. They’d filled buckets with sand and water, and built their castle by letting the wet sand drip between their fingers into spiky, craggy towers. Merlin thought it looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Come on then, don’t just stand there,” Arthur said. “Start on the north wall.”

Merlin dropped to his knees immediately and dug into one of the buckets. Morgana showed him how to cup his hands so the sand ran between them just so. It took some practice to get it to fall the way he wanted it to, but soon he had a long wall punctuated by small towers.

It was nice, he decided, playing here on the beach with the sun warm on his skin. If not for the collar around his neck, he could almost imagine he was just another boy out on holiday with his friends.

Arthur eventually tired of the castle and decreed it was time for a swim. He and Morgana dashed in splashing, but Merlin waded tentatively behind them. The water felt strange rushing over his feet, and whisking the sand out from under him if he held still for too long.

“Hurry up!” Arthur called behind him.

Merlin tried to obey, but with the water now around his thighs, he wasn’t making much progress.

“Arthur, you idiot, he can’t swim,” Morgana said, half wading and half floating back over to Merlin, Arthur behind her. “You can’t, can you?”

“No, miss.”

“Come on, we’ll teach you,” Morgana said. “It’s not hard, don’t worry.”

She and Arthur pulled him out beyond where the waves were breaking, where the water came to their stomachs but they could still stand. They showed him how to float on his back and move his arms gently to balance himself. Once he could do that easily, Morgana showed him how the water made him light enough that she could hold him up while he learned to paddle and kick. Arthur rolled his eyes and acted annoyed, but Morgana was a patient teacher, and Merlin could see that for all Arthur’s complaints, he too was enjoying helping his slave learn to swim.

“We’re getting a bit deep,” Morgana noticed finally. “And the current’s washed us down a long way. We should start heading back.”

Merlin felt confident enough to swim along behind the siblings as they made their way in to shore, although he couldn’t match their speed. He was just about to call for them to slow down when a big wave hit him from behind, tumbling him underwater. He surfaced for air and was once more knocked under. He flailed, unable to find either the surface or the bottom to tell which way was up. Merlin gasped involuntarily and inhaled only seawater. He needed to come up for air, he needed to breathe, he was going to drown here on this beach and no one would know and who would tell his mother—

Suddenly, his head broke the surface and his lungs filled with air. He gasped for breath, coughing up water, and finally realized he’d left the ocean entirely. A man with hard, muscled arms held him like a baby and waded back to shore. Somewhere in the back of Merlin’s brain, the tiny part that still had room for thoughts, he registered the collar around the man’s neck.

The slave set Merlin gently on the sand. Merlin rolled onto his hands and knees, heaving and coughing up what felt like half the Atlantic. Arthur and Morgana rushed over to him.

“He’s all right, sir, miss,” the older slave told them. “He’s just had a bit of a scare.”

“Merlin, are you okay?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin managed to catch his breath for a moment and nod before he began to cough up more seawater.

“Cerdan, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin looked up long enough to see another man, older than the slave—Cerdan, he was calling him—and taller, too, striding over, fury in his face. He carried a vicious-looking riding crop. Neither Master Pendragon nor Merlin’s old master favored riding crops, but Merlin knew they were a weapon of choice among many slave owners.

Cerdan jumped to his feet and locked his hands behind his back. His master struck him hard across the shoulder.

“There’s no call to hit him!” Morgana cried indignantly.

The master ignored her. “Trying to run off, now, are you?” he demanded, raining more blows down on his slave.

“No, sir,” Cerdan insisted, trying hard to stay standing under the beating. “The boy was drowning, sir, I only wanted to help.”

Merlin knew he should stand in the presence of a freeman, but he was sure he couldn’t manage it. He sat back on his knees, clasped his hands behind his back, and prayed the angry man wouldn’t pay him too much attention.

“My slave was drowning!” Arthur shouted. “Your man saved his life.”

The man stopped beating Cerdan for a moment and rounded on Arthur. “Young man, didn’t your parents ever teach you not to come between a man and his slave? His discipline is none of your concern, and I’ll thank you to stay well out of it. You’re better off taking care your own slave doesn’t go off getting himself drowned again.”

Merlin chanced a glance up at Cerdan. The older slave was breathing hard, but he made no sound. Merlin winced at the red stripes that now decorated Cerdan’s arms and chest. He dropped his gaze back to the sand. If the master’s temper was any indication, Cerdan was in for worse than a few welts when they got home. Merlin wished he could thank his savior and apologize for getting him into such trouble, but he knew it was not wise to call attention to himself just now.

Cerdan’s master seized his collar and dragged him up the beach. The three children watched them go in silence for a moment before Arthur and Morgana turned to Merlin.

“Are you all right?” Morgana asked.

“Yes, miss.”

Arthur turned and stalked back towards the house. Morgana helped Merlin to his feet, and they both hurried after him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but I promise the next one will be longer. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and leaving comments!

When they got back to the house, Arthur dismissed Merlin and sent him to Gaius to be looked after. Gaius’ first master had been a doctor, so he’d learned some basic skills and now served as a household nurse for the other slaves. After listening to Merlin’s breathing and hugging him so tight the boy thought he might suffocate again, Gaius prescribed rest, promising he could make Merlin’s excuses and wait on the family alone at dinner.

Merlin spent the rest of the afternoon dozing on his air mattress. He woke in the evening to find he was quite hungry. He went to Gaius in the kitchen, where the old man reheated the supper he’d saved. Merlin ate as Gaius cleaned. When he’d finished, Gaius refused his offer of help and sent him back to bed.

Feeling perfectly fine and quite awake now, Merlin returned to Arthur’s room. Arthur didn’t look up from his video game when Merlin entered. Merlin quietly gathered their wet swimsuits and towels and set them to wash.

Arthur was unusually quiet for the rest of the evening. Merlin stayed out of his way, finding unobtrusive chores to do. A bit of him wondered if Arthur was cross with him for nearly drowning, but that didn’t seem right. Arthur could be a bit of a bully, but he wasn’t cruel. Merlin resigned himself to the uneasy silence, certain Arthur would speak when he chose.

It was strange enough sleeping in the same room as his master, and even stranger when Arthur was behaving so oddly. Merlin stared up at the dark ceiling for a long time, listening to Arthur toss and turn. Finally his master quieted. Merlin thought he’d fallen asleep and was just beginning to doze off himself when Arthur spoke.

“Where did you live before?”

Merlin opened his eyes, startled a bit. Finally he said, “On Master Harper’s farm in Suffolk, sir.”

“With your mum, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered. “He was sold when I was little.”

“Oh.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment, long enough that Merlin wondered if he’d finally gone to sleep.

“Did you like it there? Were you sad to leave?”

“I was sad to leave Mum,” Merlin said, wondering where in the world these questions were coming from. “I liked Master Harper’s place well enough, I suppose. I didn’t know anything different.”

“Did he ever beat you unfairly?”

Merlin considered a moment. “I’m not sure ‘fair’ exists when you’re a slave, sir,” he said finally. “Our masters can do as they like with us.”

“But did he ever beat you when you hadn’t done anything wrong?”

He was thinking of Cerdan, Merlin realized. He wondered if Arthur had been dwelling on the man since that afternoon. He’d been surprised, Merlin supposed, to see someone punished for saving a life.

“Yes, sir, sometimes,” he replied.

There was another long silence before Arthur asked, “Merlin, does my father beat you?”

“No, sir,” Merlin said. “The others say he doesn’t like to. Mr. Aredian does it.”

“Often?”

“No, sir. We all try to stay out of his way.”

“My father says magic is evil,” Arthur said. “He says it corrupts anyone who has it.”

Merlin didn’t answer.

“That man at the beach saved your life.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He didn’t seem corrupted,” Arthur said. “He seemed like a good man. But maybe that’s why sorcerers have to be slaves. Maybe without his collar, he’d be evil.”

Maybe without his collar he wouldn’t be whipped for saving someone’s life, Merlin thought. But he didn’t say it aloud. Arthur might be in a strange mood, but he doubted it was strange enough to allow anything that close to anti-slavery talk.

Over the course of the next week, what Merlin discovered more than anything else was that he disliked being the center of attention. Gaius fussed over his meals and constantly reminded him to be cautious on the beach. Morgana asked him frequently how he was feeling and never seemed quite reassured when he insisted he was fine. Even Arthur kept an unusually close eye on him whenever they were near the water. Only Master Pendragon treated him normally, that is, he ignored him completely unless Merlin got underfoot, which he was very careful not to do.

Merlin also avoided wading deeper than his knees for the rest of the holiday. Arthur and Morgana swam every day, but never pushed him to join in. Instead, Merlin did his best to enjoy the sand and the sun, and hoped that once they returned home everything would go back to normal.


End file.
